David Van-Cauter |
A cautionary tale
In a moment of madness, they moved to the sea –
five acres of garden, fresh air and a breeze
that would cut through the cobwebs, the grime of the town.
In a moment of madness, they tore their world down,
decamped to a tent in a field by the rocks,
tried to make a new life without need of the shops
or the car or the telly or tailor-made suits –
they would eat only vegetables, salad and fruit
that they grew in their garden, and breathe the sea air,
form a tranquil oasis of happiness there.
And they lived in their field for a year and a day,
until all of their problems had faded away
like a cargo of salt, spilling into the ocean…
but so had the cliff, due to coastal erosion.
So five acres of garden, their home for the free,
in a moment of sadness, fell into the sea.
from a painting by
Walter Sickert
Look at his fingers, stained with tar.
You can tell by the way he holds his cigar
and preens, that this is a man whose guilt
envelops him, like an overcoat.
A glass, half-empty, and a slice of pie
rest on the table; his loving alibi,
his wife, is propped against some vacant
chest of drawers, staring, complacent,
at the image of a girl who now is dead –
a sketch that tried to hold her. Instead
she drifts, unframed, in one dimension,
her gaze elsewhere. His grand intention
to possess her only robbed her of her life.
Look at his fingers, stained, his wife
enraptured, half-believing, half-ignoring:
she knows he killed her with his drawing.
We don’t read ugly poets –
good-lookers only, please.
If you’re not drop-dead handsome,
don’t want your similes.
your badly-balanced stanzas,
your mismatched, mis-shaped feet,
your plainly-patterned metaphors,
your rhymes that don’t quite fit.
If poems can be beautiful,
then poets should be too,
and show a flair for fashion, which
just can’t be said of you.
Byron was quite a cutie – so
romantic, debonair,
with women swooning for his gorgeous
verse and tousled hair.
No, take a leaf from our book
and smarten up yourself
before you get neglected, lost
on some old dusty shelf
with other ugly poets, who
just didn’t make the grade
and weren’t as finely polished
as the couplets they had made.
So thanks for your submission – yes,
it showed some expertise,
but next time, sending work to us,
enclose a photo, please.
David Van-Cauter lives in Hitchin, Herts. He is currently trying to write for children.
His first collection Tornado in Cleethorpes was published in 2002.
Amazon has a few copies, or you can buy it locally in the following bookshops: David's, Letchworth, WH Smiths, Hitchin and Methven's, St. Albans. Ask if it's not on the shelves!
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AUDIO FILES: Decimal Clock, Soon